"How can you speak of a vote?" Lhaar a Iriel demanded, gathering herself up from the floor and shaking off anyone who tried to assist her. "You see what comes of oaths made by the Tir. Cast them out and be done with it!"

"The vote will go forward," Brythir declared. "In the meantime, let the Exile be found and returned to face judgment."

Adzriel took the floor. "My fellow khirnari, Klia has labored long and honorably among us, as did Lord Torsin. They have been

wronged; to cast the vote while she is unable to speak for herself would wrong her further. Until she recovers and the confusion that enfolds us has been lifted, I call upon the Iia'sidra to show mercy and postpone their decision. A few more days or weeks, what is that to us compared to what it may mean for Skala?"

"Let the Exile be brought back!" Elos of Golinil called out, casting a dark look Thero's way. "I say we postpone the vote until he has answered for his actions. Only then will any doubts regarding Skala's true intentions be resolved."

"You speak wisely, Khirnari, as does Nazien i Hari," said Nyal, speaking up again. "I know the Exile and his companions better than any of you and would not see them brought to harm. They're most likely on their way north to Gedre, or west to Bokthersa. You all know that I'm accounted a skilled tracker, and I know that country well. With the Iia'sidra's consent, I will lead a search party."

An angry outcry went up from the Bokthersans, but Brythir stilled them with one upraised hand. "I accept your offer, Nyal i Nhekai, assuming Nazien i Hari has no objections."

"He may do as he likes," the Haman retorted. "I sent searchers west and north as soon as I learned of Seregil's escape."

Bowing, Nyal left the floor without looking in Thero's direction, and the wizard's fingers itched for magic to strike the man down.

Glaring at the Ra'basi's back, Thero vowed silently, I'll give you teth sag. If any harm comes to my friends through you, no law or magic will be enough to protect you!

The Skalan guest house had become a fortress in Thero's absence. Armed guards stood at every door, and others paced the roof. Hurrying inside, he managed to make it to a chair near the door before his legs gave out. The sergeants and a handful of Urgazhi were waiting for him in the hall, together with several of the servants.

"What are you still doing here?" he asked the Bokthersans.

Kheeta's mother shrugged. "Klia is still Adzriel's kin, and her guest. We do not desert our guests."

The wizard gave her a grateful nod, then quickly sketched out the debacle he'd just witnessed.

"Nyal's gone against us?" asked Corporal Nikides, stunned. "How can he do that to the captain? I'd have sworn—"

"What, that he loved her?" Sergeant Braknil let out a snort. "It's

the oldest trick in the book, damn him! And he was good at it, too. He fooled me, and I've been out of the barn a time or two."

"He fooled us all," Thero admitted sadly. "I just hope Seregil and the others have had enough of a start to get through."

Gathering what strength he had left, he climbed the stairs to Klia's chamber.

41 REVELATIONS IN THE RAIN

A gentle drizzle dogged Alec and Seregil through the day, growing heavier and mixing with brief spates of sleet as afternoon slowly wore toward evening. "This is a useless sort of rain," Seregil griped, shivering as he pulled his damp cloak around him. "It's not coming down hard enough to wash away our tracks."

"It's easier to stay warm in a snowstorm than in this," Alec agreed, chilled himself. His cloak and tunic had already soaked through at the shoulders and across the tops of his thighs. Now he could feel the wetness spreading. Waterlogged clothing wicked heat away from the body; even this late in the spring a man could take a killing chill from it. To make matters worse, the route Seregil had chosen ascended into the mountains sooner than the main road. The peaks in the distance ahead showed patches of white where snowfields still blanketed the summits. The dull outline of the sun, just visible through the mist, was sinking steadily in the west, stealing back the scant warmth of the day.

"We're going to have to stop soon," he said, chafing his arms with his hands. "Somewhere we can make a fire."

"We can't risk it yet," Seregil replied, scanning the road ahead.

"Dying of the chills will slow us down worse than getting captured, don't you think?"

Seregil urged his horse up a steep stretch of trail. They were still in the trees, but a wind was rising, adding to their discomfort. When the ground leveled out enough for them to ride abreast again, he turned to Alec, who knew at once by his slight frown and distant expression that he hadn't been thinking of rain or shelter.

"Even if Emiel is out to supplant Nazien, killing Klia would almost certainly work against him, don't you think? Emiel's a violent bastard, and no mistake, still—" He broke off, rubbing ruefully at the latest bruise on his jaw. "It's just a gut feeling, but after talking with him in the barracks that night, I can't imagine him risking the loss of honor."

"After all he did to you?" Alec growled. "I still say he's the most likely one. What about Ulan i Sathil?"

"Do you really think that man would make such a silly botch of the whole business? Would a man who knows how to foment civil war in another country have hidden the ring in his own courtyard like some common blackmailer keeping his dirty little collection of letters under his mattress?

"No, he's too smart for that. If he had done it, we'd never have found him out. Besides, why would he do such a thing if Torsin was attempting some compromise in Viresse's favor. Which leaves us looking elsewhere. You recall what I said about the 'faie?"

Alec grinned. "That they're no good at murder because they don't do enough of it to keep in practice?"

"Ask the right questions," Seregil murmured, wandering off into his own thoughts again. "We're approaching this as if we're tracking some practiced assassin—it's what we're used to." He let out an exasperated sigh. "Amateurs! They're the worst."

"The Ra'basi have been cagey about which side of the fence they're on," Alec said, though he was more reluctant than ever to suspect Nyal after all his help with Klia. "The poison is one they're familiar with, and they had a man inside our house. And what about the Khatme? If I were going to pick anyone out for sheer malice, Lhaar and her lot would be it. It's clear they don't regard Tirfaie as equals. Perhaps they wouldn't count killing one or two as any great crime."

"An interesting thought," said Seregil. "And their religious zeal seems to have grown in my absence. I've seen that wreak more havoc than magic when it comes to war." Still, he didn't sound convinced.

They spent the night in a ruined hut, huddled miserably together under damp blankets as they ate a cold supper of dried venison, cheese, and rainwater. A wind came up soon after sunset, finding its way through every hole and chink of their paltry shelter, stirring the soaked clothing that lined the hut's one sound wall.

Pressed shoulder to shoulder with Alec, Seregil rested his head on his knees and tried to ignore the fits of shivering that shook him, and the way the slightest movement sucked cold air in around the edges of the blankets. He wasn't dangerously cold, just miserably uncomfortable.

As usual, Alec warmed faster. "Come here," he said presently, pulling Seregil to sit between his legs, back to Alec's chest. He rearranged the blankets into a better cocoon around them and wrapped his arms around him. "Better?"

"A bit." Seregil jammed his hands under his armpits to warm them.

Alec chuckled next to his ear. "I don't think you'd have survived where I grew up."